Two Of A Kind
by Trekkieb
Summary: Frank and Donovan are headed to Donovan's parents' for Christmas Eve dinner, but first they've got a stop to make.


**Disclaimer:** I humbly acknowledge that Seven Days and everybody/everything therein belongs to UPN and Crowe Entertainment, and that none of them are mine. This was written for entertainment purposes only.   
**Rating:** Sooo G :)   
**Summary: **Frank and Donovan are headed to Donovan's parents' house for Christmas Eve dinner, but first they've got a stop to make.   
**Author's Notes: **Thanks, Jennifer, for your encouragement. :)   
  
  


**Two Of A Kind**   
**By [Trekkieb][1]**

  
  
  


"Hey, Frank, you ready?" Donovan asked cheerfully as he strode into Frank Parker's quarters. The handsome captain was dressed in normal civilian clothes, an unusual occurrence to be sure. But it was Christmas Eve, after all, and he _was_ going off base. So, instead of his customary beige-camouflage uniform, Donovan wore a tasteful gray sports coat over dress shirt with tie, and slacks. 

"Frank?" he repeated, stepping further into the room. There was no sign of anyone in the main room. 

"In here," a voice replied at last. 

Donovan walked over to the bathroom doorway and leaned against the frame, grinning in amusement as he watched his friend get ready. "Time to go, buddy." 

Frank stopped messing with his hair and placed his small comb by the sink. He adjusted his suit coat and turned to face the other man. "Nice tie," he said as he exited the bathroom. 

Donovan smiled and looked down at the muted green patterns in his tie. Olga had given it to him at the small NNL Christmas bash earlier in the day. There'd been music, cookies, eggnog, and, of course, gifts. She'd wanted to hand out her presents early, rather than wait until she got back. Now, some time after the party, Olga was gone, on her way to Russia to spend the holidays with her mother. 

Frank stood in the middle of his room and faced Donovan. "How do I look?" he asked anxiously. "Do I look all right?" 

Donovan contemplated messing with Frank's head just a little bit, then thought better of it. It _was_ Christmas, after all. Instead, he pushed himself away from the doorjamb and placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "You look fine," he assured him. "Now let's go." 

Frank glanced at his reflection one more time in the dark screen of his television, smoothed down his hair, and nodded his head. "Okay, _now_ I'm ready." 

* * *

Donovan pulled the car into the nearly empty parking lot of the specialty toy store and killed the engine. There was only one other vehicle in the lot, besides them. "Want me to go in with you?" he asked the man in the passenger seat. 

"Nah. You'll just slow me down, drooling over all the toys," Parker quipped, grinning cockily. His earlier anxiety had faded somewhat. 

Donovan just rolled his eyes. "Get out of here," he said and pushed Frank out of the car. 

Frank entered the store and went directly to the front counter, where an elderly man was clearing out the cash register. He peered at Frank through black rimmed glasses. "It's almost five," he said. "We're about to close." 

"Yeah, I know," Parker responded, placing his hands on the counter. "I'm here to pick up a model set I ordered a week ago." 

"Name?" 

"Parker, Frank." 

The man tapped a few keys on his computer, then nodded. "Wait here," he ordered and disappeared into a back room. 

While Parker waited, he thought about the reaction his son would have to his gift. Frank was sure Jimmy would love it. It was a model kit of the Spruce Goose. The boy had an incredible fascination for the famous aircraft; his shelves were full of books about the subject. 

He'd tried for weeks to find a toy store that carried the item, and he'd been relieved when he finally found the right place. Treasure Island was not a typical toy store. It had all the toys that such places as Toys R Us didn't have: Hand crafted trains, carved rocking horses, and models of the Spruce Goose. 

Parker's survey of the toy-filled aisles was interrupted when the old man reappeared behind the counter. "Here you go," he said placing a medium sized box wrapped in red and green paper before Frank. 

Parker smiled. "Thanks," he said. "My son is gonna love this. How much do I owe you?" The sum was named, and Parker paid with the Titanium card. Who cared if Ramsey said it wasn't for personal use. It was Christmas. 

"Merry Christmas, young man," the clerk said. 

Parker picked up the package. "Merry Christmas to you, too." Back outside, he pulled open the passenger door and slid in. "Got it," he told Donovan. 

"And in under ten minutes, too. Not bad, Frank." 

"Ha ha. Hey, how about some music?" Without waiting for a response, Frank switched on the stereo and flipped it to an all-Christmas music station. The jolly tune of "Jingle Bell Rock" filled the car, and Frank heartily sang along with the words. After a moment, Donovan joined as well. 

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the two cruised down a tree-lined block. Nearly every house had a string or two of colored lights on its windows or bushes, lighting up the block with cheer. "Here," Frank said when they reached the right house. Donovan slowed to a stop by the curb, and Frank got out with his gaily-wrapped box. 

The air was cool, but not cold. One of the perks of living in the desert: it never got too cold, even in the month of December. Frank walked up the stone pathway to the house's front door, noticing all the cars parked in the driveway. Patricia's parents must be here, he thought, not unpleasantly. He'd always liked his in-laws, and he knew they had a certain fondness for him, too. 

Well, here he was. At the front door. He lifted a hand to ring the bell, but he hesitated, trying to envision the scene inside. Patricia and her mother were most likely putting the finishing touches on the smoked ham. Jimmy was probably sitting with his grandfather at the piano, picking at the ivory keys, though neither could play a tune to save their lives. And then there was Mike Clary, Pat's new husband. What would he be doing? 

Parker shook his head. What was he doing, just standing out here on the porch like a fool? Glancing behind him, he saw Donovan watching him from the car. Giving him the thumb's up sign, he turned back around and rang the doorbell. A minute later, it was opened by his son. 

"Dad!" he exclaimed happily. 

"Hey, Jimmy!" Frank reached down and picked the boy up in one arm. "Merry Christmas." He looked up and saw Mike and Pat approach the doorway, smiles on their faces. He set Jimmy down, pecked Pat on the cheek, and shook Clary's hand. "Merry Christmas, guys. I just wanted to drop off Jimmy's present before tomorrow," he explained. 

"It's good to see you, Frank," Donald, his father-in-law, greeted as he stood up from the piano. 

"Yeah, great to see you, too, Don." 

Frank turned to Jimmy who was still by his side. "Hey, this is for you. Merry Christmas, buddy." 

His son eagerly took the proffered present. "Thanks! Can I open it now?" 

"Tell you what, why don't we open it together tomorrow, okay?" 

The boy reluctantly agreed, then brightened up. "Are you staying for dinner? Grandma made pumpkin pie for dessert." 

Parker laughed and clutched a hand to his chest with a mock sigh. "Ahh. A woman after my own heart," he joked. Maggie laughed and slapped him with a dishtowel. Casting a quick glance at Pat, Frank then turned back to Jimmy. "Uh, sorry, sport. I don't think so. I've got plans to have dinner with a friend of mine. But I'll be here all day tomorrow. I promise." 

Jimmy nodded, placated. "So, uh, I guess I better be going," Frank said. He hugged his son fiercely, then hugged Don and Maggie as well. 

"You say hello to Craig for me, Frank," Maggie ordered with a smile as their hug ended. 

"I will," Frank assured. He again pecked Patricia on the cheek and clapped Clary on his shoulder. "Merry Christmas!" he called one last time, waving, as he walked back to the waiting car. 

He strapped himself in and turned to his patiently waiting friend. "Let's roll." 

* * *

Dinner was long over by the time the clock struck nine. Donovan, his parents, and Frank were gathered in the cozy living room of Mr. and Mrs. Donovan's home. They sat close to the crackling fire, enjoying the warmth, and sipping small glasses of brandy. 

"And this one," Mrs. Donovan said, pointing to a particular photograph in the album on her lap, "was Craig at his high school graduation." 

Donovan's father smiled. Parker laughed. And Donovan, well, he just tried to grin and bear it. 

"Geez, Donovan, I never knew you were a nerd in high school," Frank teased with a huge grin. Then, to Donovan's mother, "Hey, you mind if I make copies of that? I bet the guys at work would love to see it." He shot a glance at his friend, watching him stop his squirming and glare at him. 

"If you do that, Frank, I will hunt you down, even if it takes the rest of my life." 

"Why, Donovan, was that a threat?" Parker asked, eyebrows raised innocently. 

"No, that was a promise." 

Donovan's father laughed as he got up from his easy chair. "Boys, boys, be nice. I think it's about time for presents. Wouldn't you say, dear?" he asked his wife. 

"Yes, I think so, too," she replied. She placed the photo album on an end table and left the room with her husband. Once they'd left, Frank and Donovan got up and retrieved their gifts from the entryway table. 

"So what'd you get your folks?" Frank asked, curious, as they made their way back to the couch. 

Donovan smiled and fingered the brightly wrapped packages he'd placed on the coffee table. "For my dad, a box of cigars, and for my mom, a collection of poems." 

"What about me? What did you get me?" 

"Yeah, like I'm gonna tell you. What makes you so sure I got you anything?" 

"Well, for one, I'm your best bud, and two, there's three presents right there." Frank pointed at the coffee table. 

Donovan shoved him good-naturedly, and Frank went tumbling off the couch, laughing. Just then, Mr. and Mrs. Donovan came back with several colorful presents in their hands. "What are you two doing in here?" the older Donovan asked sternly, a twinkle in his eye belying the serious tone. 

"Nothing," the two NSA operatives chorused simultaneously. 

In no time at all, most of the presents had been opened and properly admired. The last unopened gifts were Donovan's and Frank's. "Here you go, Frank," Donovan said, handing him a small, flat, and rectangular package wrapped in blue and red. "Merry Christmas." 

Frank held it in his hands, trying to determine what it was before tearing open the wrapping paper. After a minute, Donovan's mother smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Go on and open it, Frank," she said. "I want to see." 

With a laugh, Frank tore the paper to shreds, revealing the object underneath. He stared in surprise. It was a picture frame, silver, about six inches by five inches in measurement. Situated behind the protective glass front was a photograph, one that he remembered clearly. It had been taken two months ago at Talmadge's birthday party. Frank, Donovan, Olga, Isaac, and Ballard were all gathered around the birthday boy, wearing silly hats and goofy smiles. Even Ramsey was there, standing to the side and cracking a smile. 

Frank smiled fondly at the memory. Looking up, he caught Craig's gaze. "Thank you," he said. "But you're not gonna believe this." 

Donovan looked confused. "What do you mean?" Parker just shook his head and handed Donovan his present. He peeled aside the red paper. He started in shock for a moment, then started laughing. Quietly at first, then so hard and so loud he gasped to regain his breath. "I...don't...believe this," he panted, grinning. Frank was chuckling right along with him. 

"What?" Donovan's father asked, shaking his head in puzzlement. He looked at his wife for an answer, but she was obviously as in the dark as he was. 

"We--" Frank and Donovan started at the same time, then began laughing again. Instead of speaking, they showed the couple what was causing their current merriment. 

Frank and Donovan had given each other the exact same present. 

Well, the frame was different, but the photo was the same: Talmadge's birthday party. 

Donovan Sr. and his wife chuckled along with the two younger men. "Well, they say great minds think alike," he said, shaking his head. 

"You boys are definitely two of a kind," she added. 

Frank sobered himself enough so that his face was no longer quite as red. Placing a hand on Donovan's shoulder, he said, "Merry Christmas, buddy." 

Donovan smiled back. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Frank."   


**The End**

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